This morning it was as cold as the woman deeply in love with whom you have dared to flirt. I wore gloves but my hands were soon stinging anyway and I had to curl them into balls inside the gloves. (These gloves do not keep the fingers warm at all.)
So I set out early on this fine (but cold) Saturday morning, happy to have concluded the work week and have the chance to re-connect--up close and personal--with my island environs. I motor briskly off to work each morning and slide back into a spot along the curb at about 5:30 pm--head inside for dinner and the brief evening I have to myself before doing it all again. This workaday life is for the birds.
I circled the island, taking my old familiar route. I encountered one dogwalker on either side, and one jogger in the middle, at my beloved southeastern tip, where I was gratified to see that my Christmas balls remained hanging on their respective branches. I raised a hand in greeting to each one I passed and each responded in kind, including the mail carrier in his truck who passed me when crossing the railroad tracks on E. Island Ave., his island deliveries accomplished and my walk nearly concluded. He is in my good graces, as this week I happily removed the first mail delivery to hit our new mailfox ... I mean, mailbox.
Once again, the southeastern tip of the island was where I happened upon the most eye-catching photo opportunities. Here I couldn't resist capturing a spot where the river caught the light, which I snapped while looking down over a shoreline border of rocks. I realize that so many of the beautiful natural visions I behold on the island come to me courtesy of the river and the wondrous manifestations created by its waters. A river may be good for a great many things, but contributing beauty to the world is one of the things I value most. I didn't have to walk much farther before stumbling upon another unique aqueous display, a phenomenon the likes of which I'd never quite beheld before.
Here we see the low hanging branches of a tree caressing the surface of the river, where the elements have conspired to form small baubles of ice around each branch where it kisses the water. Truly one of the cooler manifestations of water (literally and figuratively) I've encountered here or anywhere. This was something I felt worthy of more than one photo, so I ended up with a few. Next, I'll share a more close-up view of these crystal jewels, where they nestle upon the face of the gentle flowing current.
It is as though Mother Nature has seen fit to create her very own Christmas balls for this tree, as if to show up my own clumsy attempts to improve upon nature. I daresay she has made her point, and I have no choice but to acknowledge the superiority of her handiwork.
So I set out early on this fine (but cold) Saturday morning, happy to have concluded the work week and have the chance to re-connect--up close and personal--with my island environs. I motor briskly off to work each morning and slide back into a spot along the curb at about 5:30 pm--head inside for dinner and the brief evening I have to myself before doing it all again. This workaday life is for the birds.
I circled the island, taking my old familiar route. I encountered one dogwalker on either side, and one jogger in the middle, at my beloved southeastern tip, where I was gratified to see that my Christmas balls remained hanging on their respective branches. I raised a hand in greeting to each one I passed and each responded in kind, including the mail carrier in his truck who passed me when crossing the railroad tracks on E. Island Ave., his island deliveries accomplished and my walk nearly concluded. He is in my good graces, as this week I happily removed the first mail delivery to hit our new mailfox ... I mean, mailbox.
Once again, the southeastern tip of the island was where I happened upon the most eye-catching photo opportunities. Here I couldn't resist capturing a spot where the river caught the light, which I snapped while looking down over a shoreline border of rocks. I realize that so many of the beautiful natural visions I behold on the island come to me courtesy of the river and the wondrous manifestations created by its waters. A river may be good for a great many things, but contributing beauty to the world is one of the things I value most. I didn't have to walk much farther before stumbling upon another unique aqueous display, a phenomenon the likes of which I'd never quite beheld before.
Here we see the low hanging branches of a tree caressing the surface of the river, where the elements have conspired to form small baubles of ice around each branch where it kisses the water. Truly one of the cooler manifestations of water (literally and figuratively) I've encountered here or anywhere. This was something I felt worthy of more than one photo, so I ended up with a few. Next, I'll share a more close-up view of these crystal jewels, where they nestle upon the face of the gentle flowing current.
It is as though Mother Nature has seen fit to create her very own Christmas balls for this tree, as if to show up my own clumsy attempts to improve upon nature. I daresay she has made her point, and I have no choice but to acknowledge the superiority of her handiwork.Up along the eastern shore I proceed, along the return journey, and soon come upon the phenomenon encountered in my last post, this one engineered by man. This, as you may recall, is the small but ornate cluster of ice formed at the shore where a hidden pipe is pumping water into the river, for reasons unknown to me. This morning I manage to get a far more lovely shot of this manifestation, in which Mother Nature manages to play her part by throwing down a sunstream that fans downstream along the surface.
This is my favorite photo of the day, and has made my outing on this frigid morning well worth the pain coursing through my numb fingers, curled up inside my gloves like the rigid digits of a corpse. As I continue in a northwesterly direction, along the island's western shore, I grow pensive and poetic thoughts begin to flow into my mind. Where they come from, I know not, but I do know that they are generated, or rather, summoned, by the solitary and peaceful bubble in which I find myself, this blessed freedom to roam around a beautiful and tranquil place, the freedom that allows a mind and a heart to dance and play and to follow its very own promptings, rather than those of society. And so, as I contemplate this bubble I inhabit, a poem begins to form. When I reach my door, I pull out paper and pen and scribble it down:
Life flows on, in and around us—and the beauty of its many forms is there for the taking.
D.E.S.
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